Her foot is on the pedal and her head is in the stars. Joy was a Bettie Page styled hottie on a mission. After a chance encounter with Nick Joy finds a kindred spirit but is she just too much for him to handle?
Hang on tight, this girl drives as...
I entered the bar at the right of the posh Four Seasons Hotel, The Park 75 Lounge and immediately saw the back of Joy's head at a table against the far wall near the kitchen. I motioned to the suited hostess and she smiled as I passed. I sucked in my stomach and walked as straight and as deliberately as I could to the table. Finally Joy turned her head and saw me, too late to motion as I was upon them. It was only for a second that she broke character. She looked at me and her eyes widened, meeting mine in a tight red lipped smile. She then turned back to her counterpart.
"Mr. Davenwood this is Nick, he's my best." She said quietly.
I stood next to her and nodded ready to extend a hand but Davenwood did not. He looked up at me, gave a slight nod, closing his eyes then returned his dull gaze to Joy.
"Please sit Nick," she said placing her right hand in the seat next to her.
I took it, quietly pulling it out and sat straight, placing my hands palms down upon the table. She let her hand linger under my thigh for just a second and winked as she slowly withdrew it.
Seeing all seated a waiter wasted no time in coming over for a drink order. Davenwood ordered a Bloody Mary, not waiting for the waitress to address him. I just knew she was going to order a Margarita and it wasn't fitting. She flashed me a quick glance and placed her hand under her chin as if in thought.
"I'll have scotch and water please."
Joy nodded agreement.
"And I'll have the same."
"Nick Mr. Davenwood had just started to explain a situation in which we may help. I will let him continue."
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Davenwood began to speak again. His voice was instantly grating. He used an aristocratic blue-blood tinged lilt that was intentioned to make a point without questions from those he believed beneath him. He definitely believed we were beneath him but he needed our help, at least he thought he did. His manner was slow, deliberate and careless. He was making a point of staring, or at least trying to stare Joy down but it wasn't working, at least not at that point anyway. He had yet to say anything of meaning as he described his lucrative, successful career in talent affairs management. Then he name dropped.
"Peter Whelan, you know him better as Mystic Seer was not my first feckless client and certainly will not be my last. That is the business these days. It is more about image and social media status than actual talent. But of course everything is subjective I suppose."
The waitress brought the drinks and I watched him sip his Bloody Mary without expression, then dabbed his pale thin lips daintily with a table napkin before continuing. He appeared to be a tall man, unremarkable in appearance but there was no doubt his ecru suit was tailored and probably expensive. He chose not to wear a tie and his white button down collard shirt protruded just enough from his coat sleeves, exposing gold cufflinks fashioned in the shape of a Fleur-de-lis.
